


Childhood Innocence

by mfingenius



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Don't copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mfingenius/pseuds/mfingenius
Summary: “Your highness,” He says, slowly. “You can’t have not noticed. Your brother is - stunning.”Auguste feels like his brain might not be working right.“He’s thirteen,” He says, after a beat.
Relationships: Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

“What did you just say?” Auguste asks, blood running cold.    


Bordeour - one of his father’s oldest and most trusted friends - looks at the other courtiers and then at Auguste warily.

“Your highness,” He says, slowly. “You can’t have not noticed. Your brother is - stunning.”   


Auguste feels like his brain might not be working right. 

“He’s thirteen,” He says, after a beat.   


Laurent has been growing into himself, it’s true, but he’s Auguste’s little brother, Auguste’s  _ baby _ brother. He’s just turned thirteen, grown men - men the King’s age and older - should not be speaking of him the way the courtiers are.

“Yes,” Bordeour nods. “He’s of age now.”

That was not what Auguste meant at all.

“I-” He doesn’t know what to say. He is a prince; he is the Crown Prince of Vere, he has all the power in this room, in this country, and yet he is frozen at hearing the way the courtiers speak of his brother. “I-”   


“Your highness,” Auguste is so distracted he doesn’t even notice Jord coming closer. “There’s a messenger from Patras.”   


Auguste nods, and excuses himself in a bit of a daze.

*

“This is foolish, Auguste.” His father tells him, three days later when Auguste brings it up. He’d noticed the way people were starting to look at Laurent, of course, even heard a few comments from the guards - though they quickly started watching their tones better after Auguste kicked two of them out for daring make a comment about Laurent’s ass - but he’d never heard them of the courtiers, or other royals.    


“I do not like him around Laurent,” Auguste insists. “He talked of Laurent as though he was grown.”

“He is,” King Aleron says, off-handed.   


“He is  _ thirteen _ .” Auguste insists.

“Exactly.” Aleron says.

Auguste doesn’t understand why his meaning keeps getting lost in the translation of that sentence.

“He is a Prince,” Auguste says. “He should not be talked about that way.”

“He has your mother’s soft beauty.” King Aleron says. “He’ll have to get used to it.”   


Auguste bites his tongue. He tries to see this the way his father does, tries to consider Laurent as a trading chip more than a child or a person he loves and will always be there to protect.

“Laurent could be easily manipulated,” He says. He doesn’t think there’s anything further from the truth. “He is a child, easily impressed. If he is not pure, he’ll be harder to marry off.”   


The King seems to consider it.

“Bordeour has made his intentions clear.” Auguste insists. “If he gets his way, Laurent will have to be married off to a courtier and not a Prince.”   


Aleron purses his lips, and Auguste thinks he’s failed, but, two days later, he hears that Bordeour has been banned from going anywhere near Laurent alone. Auguste considers it a win.

*

“You’re letting me win,” Laurent complains.   


“I’m not,” Auguste argues. He’s just distracted; they’re sitting on a blanket near the edge of the castle grounds, playing chess. Laurent has had his nose buried in a thick book for a few weeks, so Auguste had had to literally carry him out.   


“Auguste,” Laurent complains again, rolling his eyes. His voice is still a child’s. “Why did you make me come here if you were going to let me win?”

“You need to come out of the library once in a while, Laurent,” Auguste reminds him, even if he’s not so sure. Maybe if Laurent stayed as long as he wanted in the library Auguste could keep him a child, safe from Vere, for a little bit longer.

Laurent rolls his eyes. “We could’ve at least gone riding.” 

Auguste smiles. “I’ll take you riding tomorrow, alright? Crown Prince Damianos will be here. He’ll come with us.”

Laurent makes a face, and Auguste laughs.

“Cheer up,” He nudges a knuckle against Laurent’s cheek. “They say he’s a great rider.”   


“Not better than I am,” Laurent says defiantly.   


“No,” Auguste says, swallowing. “No one’s better than you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

Laurent is not used to sharing Auguste, and he doesn’t appreciate that Damianos will be taking part of the attention his brother usually grants him; still, Laurent tells himself he must weather it - he is, after all, grown now - and grits his teeth to not complain to Auguste about it.

When Damianos arrives, however, Auguste is possibly the furthest thing from Laurent’s mind; Damianos is tall - much, much taller than Laurent - and muscled, his black stallion just as powerful as him, and Laurent doesn’t know who he wants to spend more time with; usually, the answer is always horses, but, for some reason, Laurent cannot quite bring himself to look away from the Akielon Crown Prince.

His cheeks begin to turn red. 

“Your Majesty,” Damianos’s voice is deep, and it makes Laurent’s kneess weak. He inclines his head at Auguste, and then turns to Laurent. “Your Highness.”

Laurent makes a choked noise. He thinks he might be drooling. He really hopes he’s not.

“Call me Auguste, Prince Damianos,” Auguste inclines his head in return, seemingly blind to Laurent’s internal conflict. 

Damianos smiles; he has a dimple.

Laurent might faint. 

“Then I must insist you call me Damen,” he says, with an easy smile, and just like that, Auguste and him seem to have known each other their entire lives. The walk away with easy slaps on each other’s shoulders, talking loudly in Veretian and laughing often. 

“Interested?” Lazar, Laurent’s favorite guard, is grinning knowingly at him, and Laurent’s face is immediately flaming.

“Shut up,” he says weakly, staring after Damianos and his brother helplessly. 

“Laurent,” Auguste notices his absence, turning back to him questioningly. “Are you coming?”

“Err, yes.” Laurent, who has always had a way with words, seems to be struggling for even a simple agreement, and Lazar laughs quietly behind him. “I’ll have you thrown out.”

They both know he won’t, but Lazar gives him an indulgent smile. “Of course, your Highness. Shall we go, then?”

Laurent nods, and steels himself to spending the evening with Auguste and Damianos.

*

Laurent, though sometimes naive, is not dumb; he knows how many courtiers and guards talk about him behind his back, and the time spent with Damianos and Auguste is a much needed break from that; they spend their entire time surrounded by Laurent’s and Auguste’s guards, and Damianos’s guards. The Akielon guards only speak Akielon, which Laurent doesn’t understand enough of yet, so even though they could be saying things about him, he won’t know, which makes him guiltily relieved.

Auguste, who does understand Akielon, hasn’t dueled anyone yet, so Laurent assumes they don’t speak of him. He knows his brother protects him - probably much more than Laurent is aware of - and he’s not unaware to the reasons why some of the guards have been thrown out.

Laurent’s and Auguste’s guards would never speak of Laurent - likely because Auguste fired the ones who did - which means that, for the most part of the day, Laurent does not feel unsafe, or uncomfortable, just as he does when he spends time in the library - which is why he’s been there more and more often lately.

Of course, Laurent thinks, some Veretian God must’ve thought that Laurent feeling safe was too much of a blessing, and decided to make dinner worse than usual.

It is a large feast, because of the Akielon’s arrival, and the feasts are always worse because the courtiers drink too much and, more often than not, stand close enough that Laurent is able to smell it on their breath. That’s only as far as it gets, of course, because though Auguste is often occupied with other courtiers, not one of them is dumb enough to try anything with him in the room, and, the ones who seem like they might, Lazar subtly sneaks Laurent away from.

It is rare that Laurent finds himself alone, truly alone, but on this night, he does; Jord comes to tell Auguste of an ‘urgent matter’ - an apparent break in attempt in the palace - and him and a dozen other guards - including Lazar - go with him, and Laurent knows how that leaves him, so, to avoid any situation Auguste will have to save him from, he decides to retire to his rooms.

The hall is large, and empty, and Laurent hadn’t truly realized what a terrible idea this had been until he begins seeing passed out courtiers; they’re drunk and mumbling, and no threat to Laurent, but if he were to come across someone - well, he’s more alone than ever.

He quickens his pace, and then considers turning back when he comes across one of the Akielon guards; though not as big as Damianos, he is still evidently bigger and stronger than Laurent is, and Laurent knows that, if he needed to fight, he could not win.

“All alone?” the guard is drunk, evidently, and he’s grinning. He speaks in poor Veretian, heavily slurred and stuttered, but well enough that Laurent understands. “Pretty and alone?”

Laurent turns back resolutely, heart pounding in his chest. He is now heading in the opposite direction of his rooms, but it’s alright. He can just wait until Lazar returns and walk with him. 

The soldier is following him, as is evident by the sound of his steps. 

“Come, pretty. Want to - want to-” a phrase in Akielon, that Laurent doesn’t understand, but is not hard to imagine the meaning of. “You’ll look so good, you’ll love it.”

It seems the soldier is too drunk to continue in Veretian, because he switches to fluid Akielon, speaking in words Laurent doesn’t understand but doesn’t like anyway.

In his anxiousness, Laurent realizes, he has taken a wrong turn, and is now not heading towards the throne room, but towards the gardens, which are likely to be deserted at this time of night.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.  
His hands are trembling, and he’s considering running - though he has no doubt the other man is faster than him, he is desperate - but, a second later, there’s a loud, booming voice.

“Hey!” and Laurent has never been more relieved to see another person in his life, even if it is Prince Damianos, walking towards them with what is possibly the scariest look Laurent has ever seen on his face.

He begins speaking rapidly in Akielon, and though Laurent doesn’t understand many words, he understands enough that it is evident Damianos has heard the guard, and is furious.

The guard is stuttering out apologies, but Damianos doesn’t seem to care; he grabs Laurent’s arm and pulls him close, behind him, bodily shielding him from the guard, and sharply snaps what seems to be a dismissal. The second the guard is gone, Damianos turns to Laurent.

“I am sorry.” Damianos says, and there is such grief on his voice Laurent is surprised; the only person he has heard sound so worried about him is Auguste. “He will return with us to Akielos and then relieved of his duties.”

Laurent sounds surprised, even to himself. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

Damianos looks at him incredulously. “You are a child, Prince Laurent. Anyone who speaks that way of a child has no place in my Palace, let alone my army.”

Laurent nods, a little dumb founded, and Laurent decides, then and there, that he likes Prince Damianos. 

A lot.

“Thank you,” he says.

Damianos nods. “Were you going to sleep?”

Laurent nods, and Damianos gives him a kind smile. 

“I’ll walk you.” He offers. “Lead the way.”

Laurent really, really likes Prince Damianos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected second part requested to my tumblr (@mfingenius) :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, find me on tumblr @mfingenius :D


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